Radiant
by atasteofarmageddon
Summary: Sherlock-y romance, clueless John, a deep conversation and a first kiss over morning coffee. Second part of my Dogtags!verse. Follows Five times but only includes a few references to that story, so it can be read alone.


-o-

One of the hardest things about being in a kind-of-sort-of relationship with Sherlock Holmes was learning how to cope with the danger he always exposed himself to. Ever since John had told the consulting detective that he could keep wearing John's dog tags, the other man had put himself in ridiculously life threatening situations, and when John asked why he simply rolled his eyes and said:

"Because, John, now I know my blogger will always come and rescue me."

Another thing about their not-quite-but-something-very-akin-to relationship was not being able to define exactly what they were. Especially when others decided to comment on it. Whatever thing it was they had, John was pretty sure no one else would actually understand. Sally Donovan never missed out on an opportunity to teasingly refer to the two as husbands, and John never made it further than a weak "We're not…" before realizing that in a crazy and confused way, perhaps they were.

But the most infuriating thing, the thing that drove the doctor up the wall sometimes, was Sherlock's so called romantic gestures. Or rather, the lack thereof. Not that John had expected Sherlock to bring home flowers every day, but ever since that dinner at Angelo's (which, by the way, had been very successful) their connection had grown even deeper, and John wouldn't mind a little, well... appreciation.

The ex army doctor wasn't exactly an expert on romantic gestures himself. But in an attempt to show hit flatmate that he was worth keeping around - because God knows he would do anything to stay in Sherlock's life - he had at least tried to show his appreciation. He made Sherlock coffee every morning, tried not to complain too much when experiments went horribly wrong, and in a moment of self-doubt he had even consulted Molly, who hesitantly told him to try to compliment the other man.

He had thought about that for a few days, and decided to play the compliment-card, but to play it safe.

"I like seeing you in that", he said one morning when Sherlock walked into the kitchen, John's dog tags resting on his chest instead of tucked inside his shirt like he usually wore them. The consulting detective clasped the tags questioningly, and John nodded. Sherlock walked around with a secretive little smile all day, and John was insanely proud to have put it there.

But back to the problem at hand.

Sherlock had been sitting at his microscope for two days, not saying a word. John had been busy at the clinic, but spending so much time without talking to his best friend (boyfriend? partner?) put things in perspective, and he knew he had to tell Sherlock what had been nagging him.

"Sherlock?" he said on the evening of Sherlock's third day of silence.

"Hm?" was the only sound the other man deemed necessary to show that he was paying attention.

"I've been thinking about something", John continued as he prepared his coffee. He turned around towards the table only to find that Sherlock was still fully engrossed in whatever substance was currently placed under the microscope.

"Oh, for Christ's…" John muttered, grabbed the base of the microscope and slid it across the table, out of Sherlock's immediate reach.

"Why did you do that?" asked a genuinely confused Sherlock. John sat down next to him and said:

"I'm trying to have a conversation here."

"I am perfectly capable of multitasking-"

"No, Sherlock, you're not."

There was a faint battle of wills until Sherlock sighed and said:

"Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

John took a sip of his coffee and tried to contemplate what he actually wanted from this conversation.

"What are we?" he settled for, and watched as annoyance fleeted over Sherlock's face.

"I don't know about you, but I for one am bored and would like to return to my work."

"_Sherlock_."

"_John_. How do you expect me to give you a satisfying answer if you don't give me a proper question?"

John sighed and decided to just throw it out there.

"I was under the impression we were going for some kind of… relationship here", he said carefully. "And I am doing all I can to show you how much I want this thing, whatever it is we're doing." He swallowed. "I just need to know that we're on the same page."

Sherlock, who had been looking pretty perplexed, raised his chin in a gesture of sudden realization.

"You don't think I compliment you enough."

"That's not it-"

"That's precisely it."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Finally Sherlock snorted in irritation and grabbed his microscope from the other side of the table.

"You're being ridiculous, John", he said and proceeded to look at whatever was under the microscope.

"No, I'm bloody not!" exclaimed John and grabbed Sherlock's hand. "I want to make this work."

Sherlock just shook his head like John was being particularly daft.

"John, I show you that I care about you every single day."

"What- No, you don't!"

"Yes, I do. You know the password to my phone. Now will you let me work?"

It took John almost a week to realize what Sherlock had meant by that. Of course he knew the code to his friend's phone - 5646 - but he couldn't for the life of him figure out how it had anything to do with their relation. Sherlock asked (ordered) him to check something on his phone fairly often and John had punched in the digits a million times, but they had never meant anything to him.

And then one day he decided to go visit Harry who, after having given her mobile phone to John, now owned an old phone with proper buttons instead of a touch screen.

"You mind if I borrow that?" John asked as they were finishing up their dinner. "My battery's dead and I need to tell Sherlock I'll be home soon."

Harry smirked teasingly but handed the phone over.

"You know his number by heart?"

"Shut up."

John tapped in a short message and was in the middle of signing off with his name when he realized what buttons he was pressing.

5 - **j**kl

6 - mn**o**

4 - g**h**i

6 - m**n**o

5646.

_John_.

He didn't realize he was smiling like a loon until Harry accused him of looking lovesick.

When he came home that night Sherlock was lying on the couch, seemingly asleep. John hesitated slightly, but decided to address the matter at hand.

"The combination to your phone is my name."

Sherlock smiled a little. John laughed quietly, shaking his head, and said:

"Are you going to bed?"

"Hm? Oh, no. Not tonight."

"Good. We'll watch telly. You're going to have to move, though."

Sherlock simply sat up, and then flopped down again when John had taken a seat, placing his head conveniently in John's lap. They sat like that while some old film was playing on the telly, but none of them paid it much attention. Sherlock was probably busy walking the corridors of his mind palace, and John was content just looking at him. After an hour or so, he caught himself touching the detective's hair, slowly stroking the dark, messy curls.

Suddenly Sherlock took a deep breath and said:

"John?"

"Mhm?"

It took a while for the detective to talk again, but when he did John could hear poorly disguised hesitancy in his voice.

"Do you mind that my password is your name?" he said, eyes still closed.

"No!" John exclaimed. "No, not at all. Why are you asking?"

"Because that's the only way I can do it."

The doctor was confused.

"Do what?"

This time it took him even longer to respond; John almost thought he had returned to his mind palace.

"Show you that I care", said Sherlock finally. "About you", he clarified when John's confusion only increased. "I don't know how else to tell you that I care more about you than anyone or anything. I'm not good with words."

John almost laughed.

"Not good with words? Sherlock, your vocabulary is out of this world."

"But that's not what you want, is it?" snapped a frustrated Sherlock and sat up in a sudden movement that caught John off guard. Sherlock's pale, pretty eyes showed clear signs of distress. "You want some kind of romance that I can't give you, that I don't know how to give. I try to- To not treat you like I treat others, to not make fun of you when you're not _thinking_. Normally I deliberately notice every single little detail about people but I try not to do that with you because I know that it's annoying. I don't care about those other people; I only care about you!" He looked down, avoiding John's eyes. "I don't know how to tell you how much you matter to me."

John shook his head in disbelief and took the other man's hand in his own. The touch sent sparks up his arm.

"Sherlock", he said gently", I don't want anything more than what you want to give me. If there's anything you're not comfortable with, then you tell me. I don't want some- some big exclamation of love."

"But I do love you." It was so painfully sincere and brutally honest that John's breath caught in his throat. "You must know that. John, you are absolutely necessary to me."

They sat in silence for a while, both going over what had just been revealed, and then Sherlock fell back down in John's lap.

"When I told you that you were a conductor of light", he said, keeping eye contact. "That was a compliment. I'm sorry if it didn't come across as one."

"It's alright", said John and stroked his thumb along Sherlock's jaw. "I suppose I'll just have to get used to your… Sherlock-y way of showing me appreciation."

"The password to my computer is Hamish."

"It's not."

"It is."

John threw his head back and outright laughed.

"I guess you are good at romance after all, Sherlock Holmes."

The other man looked smug as he curled up tighter in John's lap and closed his eyes.

"I suppose. And…"

"And?"

"And… Do you remember The Great Game? I believe that's what you named it when you typed it up on your blog."

"Of course I remember it, I re-read it just the other day. Why?"

Sherlock opened one eye and squinted up at his doctor.

"I called you beautiful."

"I'm pretty sure I'd remember that, Sherlock."

"You wouldn't. You don't store memories like I do. I told you I thought the night sky was beautiful. That just because I knew nothing about it didn't mean I couldn't appreciate it."

John continued stroking Sherlock's dark hair.

"I hadn't known you for very long back then", continued the detective.

"But you still thought I was…"

Sherlock opened his eyes completely and nodded slightly, revelling in the feeling of John's hand in his hair.

"Radiant", he finished, his voice slightly breathless. John tilted his head to the side and looked down at his flatmate, his brilliant man.

"I still find it funny that you knew nothing about the Solar system."

"I had to delete it."

"Why?"

"There was barely any room left. I had to put you somewhere."

Those words still echoed in John's head the next morning. There hadn't been much more talking; John had continued petting Sherlock's hair while Sherlock returned to his mind palace. The mind palace where John now knew he had a definite place. The thought of Sherlock deleting things just to put him somewhere - _him_, the ordinary, invalided doctor - almost made him want to giggle with joy.

After checking that Sherlock was still lying on the sofa in the exact same position John had left him the night before, he went into the kitchen to prepare morning coffee for them both. The smell seemed to wake Sherlock up a bit, because when John turned towards the living room, he was standing in the doorway.

"Soul mates", he said conversationally.

"I'm sorry?" said John who didn't quite follow; it was way too early.

"You asked me last week what we are." The pale man walked over to the counter where John was standing. "I searched my entire archive of endearments commonly used by people who love each other and soul mates seemed appropriate."

John looked up at the taller man, who seemed very pleased with himself.

"I really want to kiss you right now", John caught himself saying, and an unexplainable blush crept up his neck at his words. He was a grown man, it really shouldn't have that effect on him, but Sherlock… he was something else.

"I don't see why you can't", said the detective. And all of a sudden a pair of cold but soft lips were on John's own.

It wasn't like any kiss the doctor had ever had. He was used to kisses being comfortable, one of those things you just do because you like each other, because kissing is what you do when you're in a relationship. This, though, this kiss burned. The feeling of it spread like fire throughout his body, and for a moment he was sure he was going to collapse from the raw intensity, from the force, the outright passion.

Sherlock had placed his arm around John's waist, cradling him to his chest and keeping him from leaving. His other hand had cupped John's jaw, to make sure that there was nothing he could do except kissing back. Not that the doctor had any thought of stopping. Not ever.

It was forceful but gentle, tranquil but vigorously adoring.

It was perfect.

When Sherlock retreated it was like time stood still. They were both perfectly quiet, though John could hear Sherlock's breathing, more ragged than he'd ever heard before, and goose bumps erupted all over his body. _I did that to him._

"That was… good", said the breathless consulting detective.

"Yes", John agreed. "Yes, it… it definitely was."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then John couldn't contain his laughter. This was insane. Sherlock chuckled a little, but kept his hold on John's waist. When the doctor had sobered up he said:

"I made coffee."

"So I see."

And when John turned back to the counter to pick up his cup, both of Sherlock's arms snaked around his waist to take his own cup. John almost thought he was dreaming when the detective said:

"Thank you, love."

-o-

**A/N: Cute but useless fact: ****Sherlock calling John "radiant" just popped into my head when I watched the scene where Sherlock says the night sky is beautiful, and I just had to write it, but since English isn't my first language I wasn't sure if it could actually be used like that so I googled it. Apparently the radiant is "the point in the sky from which meteors appear to originate" and they were talking about the night sky and space and guh it was just meant to be because John is the point in Sherlock's life where everything good originates. **

**So since people have been asking about my tumblr, it's atasteofarmageddon. You're welcome to fangirl with me any day.**


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